Fox
Alice Oswald, British born 1966
from Falling Awake, 2016

Mt. Cuba, Hockessin Delaware, 2018.
Legacy of the Lammot du Pont Copelands
I heard a cough
as if a thief was there
outside my sleep
a sharp intake of air
a fox in her fox-fur
stepping across
the grass in her black gloves
barked at my house
just so abrupt and odd
the way she went
hungrily asking
in the heart’s thick accent

Gibraltar, Wilmington, Delaware, 2022
in such serious sleepless
trespass she came
a woman with a man’s voice
but no name
as if to say: it’s midnight
and my life
is laid beneath my children
like gold leaf

Fragment of a gold wreath, Greek, 330-320 BCE, sheet gold, from a tomb in the Crimea on the northern shore of the Black Sea.
On display at the Metropolitan Museum, NY in 2019 on loan from the Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC
<3
What a stunningly beautiful poem! It really connected. Recently I’ve seen fox hunting to feed their kits; this will add depth to every sighting. Thank you.
Such a generous comment, Ellie. Thank you!
Wonderful Post
Thanks
Thank you for your appreciative comment.